


worthy

by thestarsaregivenonceonly



Category: Timothée Chalamet - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Kitchen Sex, Smut, blurb request, timothee chalamet blurb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsaregivenonceonly/pseuds/thestarsaregivenonceonly
Summary: Giving cooking lessons to Tim, he confesses that he doesn't feel worthy of you. But he's all you want.





	worthy

**Author's Note:**

> anon request on tumblr, find me under the same username x

“Alright, are you actually going to pay attention this time? I am not about to teach an unwilling student.” You stared him down, trying desperately to keep from laughing at the apron he had gotten himself. It was a totally cliché apron that simply said “Kiss The Cook”. He was rather proud of it, and you couldn’t help but smirk a little.

“I’ll do my best, but no guarantees.” Timmy shrugged casually, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “I can get handsy, sometimes.” He winked. 

You rolled your eyes and turned, trying to hide the smile on your face. That only egged him on, because rather than starting to measure ingredients, he decided to stand behind you with his arms tight around your waist. HE was the one who asked YOU to teach him how to cook and bake some of his favorite recipes of yours. You had already tried a few times before, but he often had other ideas. However, this time there would be progress. You really wanted to share this with him. You didn’t get much time together alone, and it was lovely to experience such a normal, domestic aspect of life with him. 

“I’m not teaching you until you’re helping,” You insisted, cutting up some colorful vegetables. It was extremely hard to ignore him when he was like this, arms around you, and he knew that.

He sighed in an overdramatic fashion and let go of your waist, making a scene of moving a foot and a half to stand next to you. It was so silly, almost childish, but he still made you laugh. You allowed him a brief kiss before getting down to business. 

You settled on something simple, a chicken soup you liked to make in the winter. All he had to do was cut some vegetables or chicken, add broth or spices, and let it simmer. He did, however, seem to truly focus on what you were saying. That was one of the many things you loved about him. He tended to give you undivided and enraptured attention while you spoke about anything serious. He knew when to be an adult and when to poke fun. It was refreshing. 

It became truly sweet, the effort Tim started putting in. He had no idea how to go about cutting up the chicken, and he continuously piped up with a small ‘is this right?’. He was totally focused on the cooking now, but his concern over your approval was charming. Watching him try so hard to follow your steps, answering all of his questions... Now you were the distracted one. He was finishing cutting the last few carrots, and you watched him with adoration. He looked pretty damn good, cooking in a kitchen. It was sexy in a way, his interest in it, his focus, and his effort. You stood next to him and gently rubbed his back while he put the rest of the vegetables into the simmering pot. 

“Okay, now what?” He looked so ready to attack the next step. His face was a bit sweaty from the heat of the stove, and you started to slowly feel yourself slipping. 

‘No, I cannot give in,’ you thought. ‘He will never let me hear the end of it.’... “oh NOW you don’t want to cook?” You could practically hear him saying it.

“It just has to simmer for a while, you’re all done!” You clapped loudly for him, praising his culinary genius. He bowed, but not before raising his hands in a gesture of praise. 

“The cook has taught me well, I am not worthy.” 

“Oh, knock it off.”

He shrugged, repeating himself. “I’m not worthy.”

“What makes you say that?” You took a few steps closer, gently pushing a strand of hair from his face. Not worthy? God if he only knew.

He seemed off-put for a second, and alarm rose in your chest. 

“Tim?”

He thought for a moment before looking at his feet. 

“I’ve been struggling with feeling like I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly, and he quickly put his hand on your mouth when you opened it to harshly object. “I know you don’t believe that, but you have given me so much love and support over the years. You’ve traveled endlessly with me, you’ve gotten up with me at 3 am, you’ve sat with me during late night scenes. I want to return that, but I feel like I’m incapable. So I made that dumb comment about not being worthy, and the whole thing kind of flashed into my mind again.” 

You had no idea what to say. What could you say to that? You gazed back at him, neither of you speaking for a moment. After you waited a few minutes, finding the words suddenly felt easier.

“It isn’t about what you deserve or what I deserve. No one has ever made me as happy as you, no one has ever understood me so completely, no one has ever looked at me the way that you do. I’m in love with you, and you deserve the light and warmth of every star in the sky. I’ll pluck a few out, if you need proof.” You sat him on the couch in the living room, sitting on his lap as you spoke. “So whether you think you deserve me or not, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He listened intently as you spoke, smiling more and more. When you finished speaking, he seemed to sit and just process your words. Several minutes went by, so you quickly rose for a moment to check the soup, leaving him to his thoughts on the couch. 

You were adding a few more carrots when Tim re-entered the kitchen. You could only hear him walking closer behind you, so you stirred the soup a little and put the lid back on. As you started to turn to face him and say something, he collided with you first. 

This was why you had to get him to pay attention to cooking before. Nothing would get done if he started to touch you. His hands were already tangled in your hair before you finished turning your body, and the force of his movement pushed you back against the counter roughly. But the way he was kissing you… nothing else existed. 

You reciprocated in surprise at first, but it took half a second more for you to be right there with him. His sudden desperation to touch you was gasoline to your fire. He was breathing so hard, and in the midst of kissing him with such hunger and intensity, you didn’t notice him pulling his pants down off his body clumsily. Then it clicked. Ding. 

You weren’t going anywhere, and neither was he. It was too much, and it suddenly felt like it had been months since you had been touched by him. His hands were all over you, fuck they were everywhere. He wouldn’t even lift them off your body to another spot… he just continued to move them along, never lessening in the pressure of his hands. 

“I love you, I love you so much,” he was barely speaking, but the words slipped through the cracks and set you on fire. You grabbed his boxers and shoved them down impatiently, moving to kneel in front of him. But he stopped you, gently pulling you back up and kissing you again. 

“I don’t want or need foreplay baby, I want and need all of you right NOW. Now.” He was breathless and panting, and suddenly your lower body was bare. He was almost chewing on your neck as he grabbed onto your behind firmly, and your head fell back to leave you sighing and gasping in feathery breaths. He secured his grip on your body, his mouth was on yours again, you hit the counter hard, and then he was inside of you.

There was a sharp scraping sensation on your lower back, but Tim eclipsed it with the ease of the moon covering the sun. You weren’t entirely sure how you were getting oxygen into your lungs, because he was kissing you so fucking hard. Your hands were in his hair, and his found your thighs to lift you up off the ground. It was unexpected, but you held his neck tightly and let his weight keep you against the counter as he thrusted into you over and over again. He didn’t move quickly — he moved with purpose. 

Each thrust was hard, deep, and earth-shattering. He was so beautiful, the sounds he made, the way his skin smelled, the taste of him… it was never enough. Every movement made you want more. More. More. 

“Tim… Tim,” you spoke into his lips, and he stopped moving immediately, pulling back to look at you.

“What is it, are you okay, love?” He looked like he was afraid of being scolded. “I know I kinda came at you like a bull, and-“

“Timothée.” That got his attention in a rather different fashion. You spoke his full name, letting it drip from your tongue. “Deeper. I need more, please, more…” You tugged on him, kissing down his neck and trying to initiate the lowering of your bodies to the floor. He understood immediately. 

He was barely on the floor before you were straddling him and kissing him again, pushing him so hard that he almost fell backwards. Somehow, you managed to position yourself between the kissing, and you let yourself slowly, oh so slowly, take him. To be on top was euphoria. 

Tim’s eyes were almost completely black when you pulled back to start moving your hips. You found a rhythm, and you took it and ran. Your body suddenly began to bounce almost violently up and down on him, and he moaned sharply, cursing between breaths. You knew it was a lot, you knew it was going to be over quickly, but you couldn’t get enough. To be one with him, to rock with him this way… it was almost too much. 

“I love you,” you gasped, putting a hand on his cheek and pressing your forehead on his. The sharp movements of your thrusts made it a little hard, but you held his gaze and pushed deeper. Faster. The movements felt almost animalistic, but the unending love that you felt for him was what fed it. He smiled and bit his lip hard between breaths, and you had no doubt that he felt the exact same way. 

“Fuuuuuuck, yes baby girl,” his voice was low, and he leaned his own head back to close his eyes. You knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He was a total wreck, and when he did come, you kissed him, slowing the movements but making them rougher. You wanted him to feel it. Good and deep. 

His high began to melt as yours struck, and you cried out into his mouth. Your body shuddered and twitched, and he pulled you closer, kissing your neck and jaw as it faded slowly from your senses. 

Neither of you moved for a long time, the soup completely forgotten. He gently pulled out, leaving a strange, aching, hollow space. You slid close to him for another few moments, and then he helped you to stand on shaky legs. 

“Can you walk, my love?” He looked like he was afraid you would fall and break. 

“Yes,” you said, kissing him sweetly on the lips. 

“Too bad.” You were in the air now, swung over his shoulder and being carried to the bedroom.


End file.
